


Introduction to Anthologies

by Marrrrrrr



Category: Community
Genre: Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrrrrrr/pseuds/Marrrrrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short, unconnected pieces of fanfiction inspired by requests on tumblr. Will hopefully get longer if people keep suggesting things! So far Annie/Abed and Troy/Britta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a collection of all the drabbles and ficlets I've written based off prompts I received on my tumblr (illbeoutback dot tumblr dot com). If you have a fic req, you can send it to me either on there or the comments section here.
> 
> This first one is based off a prompt from joffreywinger, who also goes by Chairlampdesk here: "Annie/Abed baking a birthday cake for Troy together."

"We should bake him a cake," you offer, and from the way her eyes light up you know you've made a mistake.

Troy's birthday was this week, as Annie had just reminded you. Again. The repetition of that idea let you know there was something about it, either about the event itself or about Troy more generally you weren't sure which, that was bothering her. And because Annie was your friend, and because it hurt you in a way you couldn't fully express consciously to see her upset, you'd thrown out that piece of desperation and hoped it'd stick.

It wasn't until after, after her mouth curved upwards and she ran into her room, that it occurred to you that maybe you were projecting when you assumed jealousy over the amount of time Troy and Britta were spending together lately was the cause of her anxiety. That maybe instead she was upset about one of the natural byproducts of Troy's frequent absence from the apartment: that you were becoming more and more uncomfortable spending time alone with her, and so finding excuses not to do so.

Your suspicions are strengthened when she returns, clutching an old, child's cookbook to her breast with an excitement that is unmistakable even to you. She shows it to you, flipping through its faded, browning pages. There's one recipe for each letter of the alphabet; Annie wants to make the X-tra Special Celebration cake but you convince her that Troy would probably prefer the Boston Cream Pie, and that following strict delineations of what was and was not a birthday cake probably wouldn't matter to someone who technically shouldn't be celebrating his birthday to begin with.

And all the time that you and she are talking she's so close and you can smell her, her skin and her hair. You want to reach out, to gather her against you and just inhale her scent deep into your lungs, but you don't because that's not your role. It isn't. And even if it was, even if you were wrong and Britta was right and being human was all about defining your own role (and also assuming she was right about you being fully human which in your darker moments is something you aren't so sure of), you know deep in your bones you shouldn't. That you can't be what she needs.

But the thoughts won't go away and maybe that's why you end up tripping, your feet catching each other like you're some kind of gangly teenager again, and you fall onto the floor, spilling the bag of flour you were carrying all over it and you. Annie, who was busy whipping together eggs and sugar with her back to you (and who you'd been studying intently, perhaps further explaining your clumsiness), gasps, calling your name in a worried voice, all baking forgotten as she rushes to your side.

You're embarrassed, waving her off as you try and ignore the pain, blushing fiercely under the coat of flour covering your face. But then her hand is over your wrist and she's kneeling over you and your breath hitches in your chest. Her fingers are soft. You like tactile sensation, you always have, and her touch is one of the more pleasurable ones you've been lucky enough to experience. You feel it again, that want. It makes you feel like a greedy little pig and you want to wallow in her, to roll around and feel her all over and around you, to squish her inbetween your toes.

You can see in her face that she's seen that she's affected you, see it in the way her eyes light up again, and you know that you are doomed. Her fingers drift lower down your arm, reaching under and pushing up the arm of your shirt, rubbing your bicep as her other hand brushes some of the flour off your face. She's looking at you again, like the way she did at the end of the second paintball game and there's no way you can deny anything this time or come up with more bullshit about context because Han isn't here it's just lame old you and she's kissing you and her mouth is hot and it molds to yours just like it did that day and as good as she smells its nowhere near as good as she tastes and your tongues caress each other like old lovers and you stop caring anymore about anything besides how this feels.

You never end up finishing the cake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is based off a request from kbsaysthings on tumblr: "Can you do a Troy x Britta fic where Troy tries to sneak Britta into the apt at night without Annie or Abed finding out. And, Annie and Abed hear them but they think it's a break in or something?"

***THUD***

Annie's eyes shot open. That sounded like it'd come from the door. She stiffened, adrenaline banishing any lingering cobwebs from the corners of her mind. She strained her ears, listening.

She heard footsteps inside the apartment.

 _Thieves_ , Annie thought, her eyes widening. Slowly, soundlessly, she reached under her bed and tightened her fingers around the grip of her baseball bat. She made another notch in her mental "Annie was right" tally. She _knew_ she shouldn't have let Troy and Abed talk her out of bringing her gun with her to the apartment.

She tiptoed up to the door of her room, pressing an ear to the polished wood. Whoever was out there wasn't doing a very good job of staying quiet. She heard stumbling noises, and another, softer, quieter thud. They must not have been very good burglars if they were making all that noise. Drug addicts, probably, looking for a way to make a quick score. But, hold on, were they… giggling?

And then a much more likely reason why she would have been woken at 3:30 in the morning by noisy interlopers dawned on her. She stood, all attempts at stealth abandoned, and wrenched her door open in time to hear one of the thieves moan, "I'm going to give you _such_ a good blowjob," into the other theif's ear as she straddled him on the couch.

Troy and Britta sprang away from each other when Annie flicked the lights on. Britta was wearing a stunning red dress, a black suit jacket draped over her shoulders. Troy's dress shirt was half unbuttoned, and Annie guessed that the tie draped over the end-table lamp was probably his.

"Aaah!"

"Jesus!"

"It's three thirty in the morning!" Annie thundered at them. They both squinted at her, shielding their eyes from the new unexpected light source. Annie could smell the alcohol from the other side of the room.

"Maybe you shouldn't shout that so loud then?" Britta asked hopefully. Then she started giggling again. It quickly spread to Troy, and they collapsed against each other in a fit of restrained, snickering laughter.

"Are you high?" Annie asked, incredulous. They kept laughing at her. The door of the blanket fort opened and Abed stepped out into the common area.

"Good morning," he said, tiredly. He yawned. "What's going on?"

"Abed!" Troy said adoringly.

"Annie, why are you holding that bat?" Britta asked suddenly, pointing a good 10 degrees to the right of Annie's weapon.

"I thought I was stopping a robbery!"

"Uh, why would Troy steal from his own apartment, Annie?" Britta demanded.

"Yeah, that's messed up," Troy said, sounding genuinely hurt for a moment, but he quickly broke and had to hide his grin.

"Obviously I didn't think it was you two, you idiots!" They started laughing at her again. She felt anger swell up in her chest, and she actually almost raised the bat menacingly, fed up with their stupid jokey antics. But then Abed laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I take it Britta's reunion didn't end well?" Abed asked. Britta stopped giggling and her face fell. Troy put an arm over her, squeezing her to him.

"No," Troy said, eventually, after it was obvious Britta wasn't going to say anything. "There was kind of a… thing… with a guy… We don't need to get into it." He rubbed Britta's shoulder. "We had a blast after we ditched it though!" he added, and she smiled at him.

"Why didn't you go to Britta's place, where there is nobody to wake up?" Annie asked in a sweeter, more calm voice.

"Annie, I am not going to lie to you: it's because cab faire back to here was a lot cheaper," Troy said. He grinned. Annie glared at him. "Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you up, Annie," Britta said. "We really were trying to be sneaky."

"Well you guys are bad at it," Annie told her, but her tone was genuinely affectionate now.

"Okay, well," Abed said. "Dilemma solved. I'm going back to bed." And then he was gone back into the blanket fort.

"Night, Abed!" Annie called after him. "Well, guys, I think I'm going to go back to bed too so-" she said as she turned back towards them, pausing midsentence in shock when she saw that they'd somehow managed to entangle themselves into a full on make-out session in the three seconds she'd had her back turned. "Guys! Take it to Troy's room! Gross!"

After she'd shooed them out of the common area and ensured that there we be no blowjobs given or received on the couch she regularly sat on, Annie returned to her room, placing her bat back into its place under her bed and tucking herself in. Her thoughts turned to the solitary boy in the blanket fort. She fell asleep wondering what he was thinking about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is based on a prompt from explodinganyway on tumblr (aka time forgets on ff dot net):
> 
> :3 Annie and Britta. Annie staying at Britta's because their weekend shopping trip and hang out time ran late and Annie lives in a rough neighbourhood so Britta doesn't want her going home that late...or anything really!

Annie was a lightweight. She really was. One and a half screwdrivers and a much more loopy, much less rigid Annie Edison had come out to play. And Britta felt a responsibility to look after this other, more care-free Annie, which is why she was giving the stink eye to the flannel-clad douche that was currently hitting on her. He'd seemed way too eager to buy her that second drink.

But Britta had kept her distance, knowing she shouldn't smother her friend. And the young man's smile had slowly shifted from predatory to forced as he tried and failed to make headway against the sheer force of personality that he'd opened himself up to.

"And you don't understand! Mars  _needs_  Moms. They need them!" Annie laughed. She was sliding in and out of that terrible Texan accent, seemingly at random. "Ya know, Mark?"

"Dustin," he corrected. "So, uh, I guess you liked that movie, then?"

"No!" Annie said, laughing even harder. Britta's mask cracked a little as she felt herself smile, and she took a sip of her water to hide it. She was doing that cute little snorting thing she did sometimes, the one that made her seem like a little piglet. "It was awful!"

Britta had to agree with her assessment there. They'd gone and seen it together, after an afternoon of thrift store hunting that had lead to the purchase of a leather jacket and several cardigans. The detour to the Red Door had been Annie's idea, which surprised Britta a little, but she guessed that the groups bar outing a few months ago had loosened her views on underage drinking.

Dustin laughed too, unconvincingly. "So, uh, me and my friends were gonna get out of here and I was wondering if you, like, wanted to come with us?"

"Oh, no thanks!" Annie said. "It was nice meeting you though, Dirk!"

He left, scowling.

"He seemed nice!" Annie said, turning in her stool to face Britta again before taking another long sip of her drink.

"If you say so," Britta replied, not bothering to hide her smirk anymore. Annie suppressed a yawn. "You getting tired? You want to call it a night?"

Annie nodded. "Yeah. My place is right around the corner from here so I can just walk home, probably."

"Annie, no! This is a terrible neighborhood, there's no way I'd let you walk home alone this late  _sober_ , let alone with three sheets to the wind!" She lay a hand on Annie's arm. "I'll drive you." She'd walk her up to her place, too actually. Terrible neighborhood was understating it.

The younger woman looked over at her suddenly, her eyes gleaming. "Can we have a slumber party at your place?" she asked excitedly. Britta frowned, and Annie gripped her both hands. "Please? I never got to do that kind of stuff in high school! I didn't have cool friends like you back then. Please please please please please, Britta?"

She was somehow even better at pulling off the doe-eyed look when she was wasted.

"Alright, fine," she relented. "But nobody's braiding anybody's hair, okay?"

Annie looked ecstatic.

#

"Thanks again for taking me to L Street, Britta," Annie said as she shut the door to her apartment behind her.

"It's not called L Street it's called-" Britta began, but caught herself when she saw Annie's knowing smile, saw the glint of mischief in her eye. She made a frustrated noise, exhaling, but couldn't help but smile. Annie giggled, flopping into a recliner and petting the gray tabby that was lounging on its arm rest. She'd been here a few times, usually during little outings like they had today.

"No, but really," Annie said. "I had fun tonight."

Britta smiled. "So did I."

#

"Shoo!" Britta said, waving her arms at the orange furred one eyed cat that was sitting on the top shelf of her closet, resting its fat lazy butt on the blankets she was trying to retrieve. It stared at her, bored, and licked its chops.

"I already fed you you good for nothing-"

"What are you doing?" Annie asked, her voice half muffled by a mouth of toothpaste. She was sticking her freshly washed face out of the bathroom, frowning.

"Oh," Britta said, reddening. "I'm trying to get blankets so I won't be cold on the couch tonight, but Noam-"

Annie ducked her head back inside the bathroom quickly, and Britta heard her spit and then the sound of rushing water. "I don't want to make you sleep on the couch," she said, walking back into the loft. "I'll take it."

"Annie, come on, what kind of a host would I be if I did that," Britta said, memories of etiquette lectures from her mother rising unbidden in her mind.

"Well then..." Annie said, stepping suddenly closer. Just on the edge of being too close. "We can always share." That glint was back. Britta could smell the vodka on her breath. Annie had changed; she'd replaced the skirt and cardigan with a simple cotton t-shirt Britta had loaned her and it was taking all of her self control not to glance down, to follow the curves of her body as they sunk down to her smooth, silken legs, her wide hips. Britta swallowed.

"How's that?" she asked in a voice that was way too close to a squeak to be comfortable.

"Your bed's big enough. Isn't it? And there's no reason we shouldn't, right?" The glint had shifted. It was less mischievous, now, more vulnerable. Needier. "No... tension?"

"N-no, of course not," Britta said, side-stepping her. "Go ahead and get tucked in I'm just gonna- bathroom..." she finished lamely. She thought she might have seen a look of disappointment there in Annie's face for a moment but she was past her and behind the hastily shut bathroom door before she could confirm it.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she leaned against the door. What the hell was that?

#

Annie had passed out by the time Britta had finished her (extra-cold) shower and finished getting ready for bed. She thought, briefly, about trying the couch again, but didn't want to wake her up. And she also felt the need to prove to herself that she wasn't some weird pervert lusting after a teenager. That she wasn't the worst. So she crawled under the covers, moving as carefully as possible, not wanting to accidentally brush her skin against Annie's.

She'd just settled in when Annie groaned, turning on her side and throwing an arm around her. Britta froze, tensing, her eyes wide.

She didn't sleep very well, that night.


End file.
